


your heart is an empty cup

by avoidfilledwithcelluloid



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, but not so alternate?? hmm???, okay its a lot alternate but u know, that's how it be sometimes, uhuhhhuhuh aw dudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-02-15 09:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13027707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidfilledwithcelluloid/pseuds/avoidfilledwithcelluloid
Summary: light is the assistant manager at a nyc starbucks. L is the world's greatest detective. also murder? all this and a frappuccino with every flavor in it. you can't get any better than that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so. i'm posting this?? and its going to have chapters? that i'm totally writing as we speak aha u know....anyway!!! i hope u like it??

Out his window, snow stacked upon the tall skyscrapers of New York City. A lace-like pattern painted itself on the glass as Light breathed on it. He folded his hands into his armpits and rubbed his fingers against each other. His coffee stood still steaming on his desk while Light watched harsh grey buildings turn a soft white. This city could be beautiful, when it wanted to be. Daring to move his arm away from his self-made warmth, Light checked his watch. He'd need to be at work by four forty-five.

He began to search his apartment for clothes. Using only the light provided for him by the window, Light rummaged in his drawers for a sweater. The drawers themselves tilted this way and that as he looked through them, the product of a thrift shop dive Light regretted. Almost everything in his tiny studio was salvaged from secondhand shops and in rough condition. After wasting precious minutes searching, Light came up with no suitable candidates. In the absence of a sweater, he decided to wear his turtleneck. It was now half past four. He’d need to be out the door in three minutes in order to arrive at work on time. 

He bundled himself up in his thickest coat and jeans. A headphone went into each ear. He flipped through his Zune trying to find something appropriate for the walk before settling on a short playlist he’d made up. As he shuffled out of his apartment, Light rubbed a small piece of paper stuck in his pocket. Between his fingers it grew warm. The walk to work wasn’t a far one. He adopted a sharp stride in order to bully his way through the crowd.

_Another day_ , he thought. _Another day just like the last one._

The bell on the door jingled when he walked into his Starbucks. Rather than greet anyone, he made a beeline for the back. His ears stung from the cold. Once in the break room, Light sloughed off his outer wear until he was in just his jeans and shirt. With a little shake, he brought himself into the world and felt disappointed. There was nothing here but pale walls. On a small hook hung his apron with his name stitched into it. 

Light wrapped his apron strings around his middle twice before tying them at the back. He flattened the front and adjusted the collar of his turtleneck. The break room mirror was smudged. In it, he studied his reflection. Everything was neat and in order. The smell of coffee mixed together with microwave macaroni and cheese—a sickening mixture. He would tell his associates not to bring in such strong-smelling food but as it stood he couldn't do that. There were limits on his power as an assistant manager. 

He took a deep breath and sought out inner peace. The feeling eluded him, instead turning into the low hum of anxiety. Every shift started with this anxiety. Light pressed his lips together and focused himself entirely on his scheduled tasks. Everything would be good. Everything would be perfect--as if Light would accept anything less. 

Five o’ clock scattered orange light through the window panes. Both the baristas on duty glanced up from their work. 

“Afternoon,” he said. One barista, Jason, nodded in recognition, eyes glazed over and shining. The other one, Miley, grinned as she reached into the fridge with her silver braces on full display. 

“Hey Light,” she said. “How are you?” 

“I’m fine. A little tired from studying last night.” He learned to feign some sort of human fragility in the presence of his employees. This practice showed a sort of openness which rewarded him later when they felt safe coming to him with complaints. 

“Oh geez.” Miley laughed. “Yeah, man, I get that. You know, I’ve got this teacher who’s giving me the hardest time!”

Light hummed and pretended to listen. In the cafe, there were a few students on their laptops as well as a mother with a child running around.  Slick wooden tables with uneven legs tapped out unreadable Morse code while people hit the surface to make a point. Viewable through the front windows were mounds of snow and bustling crowds. Behind him, Miley and Jason talked about a show on Netflix that Light had heard of but didn't plan on watching. 

Gazing out at his Starbucks, Light studied the faces of each customer. These people, all these little people, were going about their day like there wasn’t anything wrong in the world. Like the world was sweet instead of what it really was: rotten. 

The scuffle of old shoes broke his concentration. Light looked up to greet the customer but the moment he saw their face the words dried in his mouth. 

There were customers who Light enjoyed: polite, kind and always cheerful. He had repeat ones who knew his name and they brightened his long, boring shifts. There were also customers who made his insides churn from what complete bastards they were. In front of him, itching the side of his nose, wasn't the worst of them but he certainly wasn't great. Of course, Light remembered his name since it sounded ridiculously fake.  Ryuzaki, pale and thin, stood hunched over. His dark hair fell in clumps around a sharp face dotted with stubble. His baggy white shirt sleeves hung wide around his wrists while the grotty hem of his jeans bunched up on his shoes. 

"Hello," Light said. His voice creaked as he smiled. "What can I get for you today?"

"Light looks tired." Ryuzaki often started their interactions with a pointed, rude statement. Beneath the counter, Light's fist clenched and unclenched. "His eyes are baggy."

"I had a late night. You know how college is."

"I don't," Ryuzaki said. "I never went."

"Will you be getting the usual?" This conversation tested his nerves. In the few moments he'd been standing there, a queue began to form. Impatient business men in pressed suits were tapping their feet as Ryuzaki stared blankly at Light. His eyes were like two dots of charcoal. 

"Yes. You remember?"

How could he forget? One venti frappuccino with a pump of each syrup, covered by a mountain of whip cream and every drizzle. Miley referred to it as the Mega-Frappe. Ryuzaki was the only person who ordered the Mega-Frappe and every time he did Light could just about kill him. Instead he typed the order into the register and took Ryuzaki's crumpled dollars. They were damp in the palm of Light's hand. 

"Will you make it, Light?" Miley whined. "You're so good at that one."

"Miley. You need the practice."

"It doesn't matter." Miley frowned. "He'll just bring it back. You know that. He never brings it back when you do it."

That wasn't even near the truth but Light didn't have the patience to argue. He passed off the register to Miley and got to work on Ryuzaki's order. Overhead, folksy Christmas tunes swirled. Light found the music cloying except for a rare few songs. Christmas music didn't hold any sort of fond memories for him other than headaches he'd been given during his sister's holiday plays. 

"Frappuccino for Ryuzaki." Light held the cup out as Ryuzaki shuffled over, hands buried deep in his pockets. His spider-like fingers reached out and, when he took the cup, they brushed against Light's. A jolt went up Light's spine and he bit back his disgust. 

Ryuzaki retreated back to his usual table, cup held precariously between his thumb and forefinger. There was only one chair at the table and it made a squealing noise when he pushed it back. On the table, Ryuzaki set up a laptop alongside a pile of folders. Underneath the laptop was a beaten looking bag cushioning it. One leg at a time, Ryuzaki sat in the chair in a crouch as though waiting to jump forward. Light watched this process with an uncomfortable emotion pooling in his middle. Just as he began to find a name for that feeling, Miley tugged on his shirt sleeve. He jerked his arm back and almost knocked over a carton of soy milk. 

"Sorry," Miley said. She bit her lip. "Can I go on break?"

"Yeah," he said. Ryuzaki stared at Light as he stuck a finger into his drink's whip cream and sucked it off his finger. "Go on."

His shift pulled on as blue night ran over the orange sunset. Customers wandered in, stopped for a while and then left their wet footprints as they went out the door. Overhead, the industrial style lamps flickered. Light took his break in the backroom with a sandwich from the corner store and his homework spread over their brittle card table. When he came back, Ryuzaki had left and his chair remained empty for the night as though he'd left his ghost sitting there. Hours passed by until the last dirty chai was sold. Outside, the snow had stopped and lay stomped down by millions of dirty boots. 

Closing duties went by quickly with Light giving sharp direction to Miley and Jason. When they finished, Miley tried to suggest they all get a drink together. In unison, Light and Jason shook their heads. All three of them went out the door and while Light locked it, Miley whistled the tune of Jingle Bells.

"See you on Thursday." Miley waved to Light as she tromped off in the opposite direction. Hands shoved deep into his jean jacket pockets, Jason gave Light a nod before jay-walking across the street. Light stood out front of his Starbucks and flipped through a couple different songs before settling on one. Beneath his coat, his skin prickled from the cool wind singing through the city. Turning on his heel, Light started toward his apartment with the world tuned out. In his pocket, he turned his small scrap of paper over and over in his fingers. 

He got three blocks before he had the feeling of being followed. Light removed one headphone and looked over his shoulder. In the distance with his outline swallowed by all the people around him was Ryuzaki. A bag was slung across his chest and he wore no coat. Under his gaze, Light bristled and he stopped until Ryuzaki walked to him. Dozens of people muscled past the both of them but neither moved. 

"You followed me," Light said.

"Light is very observant." The hem of Ryuzaki's pants was soaked with snow. "He should be a detective."

Light took a deep breath and shut his eyes. If only he were a million miles away right then, in his parent's house, in his old room, and not on a dirty sidewalk being followed by some frightening customer.

"Have you been following me this whole time?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On what you mean by 'this whole time'," Ryuzaki said. 

"Have you been following me since I left my place of work," Light asked, "or were you following me while I was at work too?"

"Ah," Ryuzaki said. "I'll be honest with you. I've been following you for longer than that."

He reached up and although Light flinched, he pulled the headphone Light had taken out toward himself. Light opened his mouth to protest but Ryuzaki put the headphone in his ear. 

"Hm," he said. "Interesting. I didn't expect this to be what Light was listening to."

"Give me my headphone back." Light yanked it out of Ryuzaki's ear and held it in a tight fist. "Why are you following me?"

"I have a good reason to follow Light." Both of his hands slipped into his pockets and Ryuzaki took his eyes away from Light. Snow started to fall again and caught on his shoulders. "I suspect that he may be Kira."

A pulse of something, something he couldn't name, went through Light's entire body.

"You what?"

"I suspect that Light is Kira," Ryuzaki said. "Perhaps if you took your headphones out, you would hear more clearly."

What the hell? Who was this guy to accuse him in the middle of the sidewalk? The gears of Light's mind ground against each other in an effort to find an answer to this affront. Mild panic set in. He reached in his pocket and pressed pause. Then he was alone with Ryuzaki and his own frustrated thoughts. A sparse few options presented themselves to him and Light's steady hands turned them over. 

_He can't know,_ Light thought.  _But if he does._

His thought ended there. But if Ryuzaki did know, then what action could he take? If Light played offended, he might come off as overly defensive and that wouldn't be good. Yet if he ignored the comment then Ryuzaki would think he was avoiding the accusation. There was a third option which glided to the forefront of his mind. Light laughed and a little puff of condensed breath appeared before him.

"Oh. Okay." He laughed again. "I thought you might be trying to ask me out."

Ryuzaki stepped back but never let his eyes leave Light's. With small grin, Light walked into Ryuzaki's space with confidence. To lean into the little power play that Ryuzaki had started seemed to have been the correct move. It threw him off balance, Light could see, to have his accusation both acknowledged and dismissed. He fiddled with the paper in his pocket and as he did, Ryuzaki's face grew curious.

"Light is," he paused and pressed his thumb to his bottom lip, "interesting. Did you really think I wanted to pursue you?"

"You did follow me," Light said. "Most people who do that want to take me out. But being called a mass murderer by a stalker is new for me."

"Does Light think I'm a stalker?"

"Well, what else are you?"

"I suppose I must be honest with you again." Ryuzaki gnawed on his thumbnail. Light averted his eyes, too disgusted to even watch. Instead, he studied Ryuzaki's dirty shoes with their greying laces and scuffed toes. Maybe if he didn't spend all his money on frappuchinos, Ryuzaki could buy some nicer shoes.

"I suppose you must."

"Then I'll tell Light my secret," Ryuzaki said. Light flicked his gaze upward and met Ryuzaki's. He had the strangest feeling of being studied like a butterfly stuck with pins. "I am L."

"Fuck."

"Is Light surprised?"

This had to be a prank—some sort of deluded stunt Ryuzaki was pulling to get him to talk to him—and Light wanted no part of it. He couldn't stand to believe, not even for a moment, that the grubby person in front of him was L, the world's greatest detective. 

"Wow." Light rolled his eyes and let a façade of disbelief melt over him. "You must be really desperate for my number, Ryuzaki."

"Perhaps it would be good for us to exchange numbers." Ryuzaki pulled out a mid-size smart phone and swiped his thumb up. "I imagine you have many questions."

Light shoved his hands in his pockets. L. The mighty investigator. And he stood in front of Light, surrounded by snow with no coat on. Yet the idea threw a stone which rippled through the once still waters inside him. Say that Ryuzaki truly was L. Wouldn't that be a twist? And hadn't Light been longing for that twist, that turn to come take his hand? He let out a frustrated sigh and took out his own cell phone. Ryuzaki froze in the middle of opening his contacts to stare at Light's phone.

"Is that a flip phone?"

"Yes," Light said. He held his phone closer to his chest. "Why?"

"No reason," Ryuzaki said in a rush. "Can you put numbers in it?"

"Yes, I can put numbers in it. It's a phone, right?"

"Of course. How silly of me. Here. Type your number into mine and I'll do the same in Light's."

Light hesitated but let Ryuzaki take his phone. As he held Ryuzaki's phone in his own hand, the brightness shone hard into his eyes. Light blinked but still found the brightness too much. Meanwhile, Ryuzaki finished typing in his number and already had it held out toward Light. Pressure mounted behind Light's skull until he broke down.

"How do I turn down the brightness?" Ryuzaki reached over and swiped his finger up from the bottom of the screen. A small menu appeared with an icon of a sun as well as several others. The icon of the sun showed the brightness at half level and Ryuzaki slid it down until the icon was dark. Mercifully, the screen darkened enough that Light could see the keys and he typed his number in. His cheeks burned as he flipped the phone around to give Ryuzaki. 

"You shouldn't feel so embarrassed," Ryuzaki said. "My phone can be complicated."

"I know how to use a phone," Light insisted. 

"I believe you." Ryuzaki hummed and leaned back on his heels. He tilted his head up toward the falling snow and stuck out his tongue. A single snowflake melted there. "I should be going. There's a lot of work left to do."

"So, this is goodbye, then?" 

"For now," Ryuzaki said. "I'll see Light again soon."

He rubbed one shoe over the other and turned to the street. A black town car, shiny from the wet snow, pulled up to the curb. From the driver's side, an older man came out to open the back door for Ryuzaki. As Ryuzaki climbed in one leg at a time, he gave Light one last look.

"You should get some sleep," he said. "You do look quite tired, today."

The car slid back into traffic as tension strung itself around Light's mind. He didn't look tired. What he must've looked like was exasperated. A long, rickety chuckle echoed from behind him accompanied by the heavy sound of wings displacing air. 

"He's got you," Ryuk said. His voice betrayed a sick glee. Light refused to look at him and put his headphone back in. "Did you hear me, Light? That L guy knows. You're toast."

"He thinks he knows," Light said. "But do you see me in handcuffs? I'm fine."

Inside Light's emotions were a volley of misguided tennis balls all colliding with each other. Every smack ricocheted throughout him while he walked. He didn't have the mind space to turn his music back on so he calculated in silence. How could he have been found? It didn't make sense. There shouldn't have been a trail to lead L to find him here. Paranoia threatened a chokehold around his psyche until Light took a long inhale and released his worry. He stilled all his thoughts. There wasn't any time to puzzle over how circumstance came to be. Now was the time to take action.

Beneath the thick swirls of snow, Light walked home with Ryuk's dark shape haunting him. A blur of people pushed around him yet Light didn't feel like a part of them. No. How could he? Within him was a merciless divinity which couldn't be easily hidden. Ryuzaki's suspicions sparked something in him—previously unheard of—that Light couldn't ignore. An excitement mounted itself over his old sense of listlessness. Here, in his hands, was a challenge.

_So_ _you think_ _you've found Kira, do you_ _Ryuzaki_ _?_ Light thought.  _I guess I'll just have to show you exactly what you really found._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lets drink some coffee and be mean to each other babe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took AGES. i got distracted by three thousand things!! anyway!!! hv some boys being snippy w each other!!! also god, tbh, sorry if some things don't track logically. i'm not a genius. i'm but a humble man trying to make fictional characters kiss. ;____; it's fun and that's all that matters.

A soft hum came from an old desktop as Light checked his class notes again. Blinking on the screen was his half-written report. Seven paragraphs and he had hardly scratched the surface of his topic. In his notes were small citations and bullet points all written in his small, square script. He re-read the same sentence five times before he gave up and clicked the next tab over. There were still three more days to finish his report anyway. 

Since he couldn’t afford wifi, he spent almost every day at the library leaching their internet for his own purposes. Around him, several other people typed at unceasing speeds as Light flipped through his Facebook feed. With one headphone in, he managed to tune out the various quiet conversations happening between the library bookshelves. Just as his eyes started to glaze over, he spotted an article link posted by an old high school classmate. 

**20 Ways Kira has Changed the World (with GIFS)**

“Ooh!” Ryuk leaned over Light’s shoulder. “Are you gonna go on Buzzfeed? I want to take one of the quizzes.”

Light put his other headphone in to drown the shinigami out and clicked the link. It was a crudely written listicle that didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know. Since Kira started bringing justice to the world, crime had gone down world-wide. Countries reported lower violence rates every day and, according to a little gif of Goku, that was an “epic win.” He rolled the cursor over the word Kira. The world could call him a thousand names and still there would only be one that was true. Kira was a temporary title, a stepping stone before God. 

His fingers twitched and, without looking, he tugged a slip of paper from between his other notebooks pages. Carrying a piece of the Death Note was commonplace to him now. Without a steady source of news information, most of his work had to be done at the library or by committing criminal’s names to memory. He hunched over the paper and flicked to a new tab. Opening up a news site, he scrolled through for names and wrote them down in quick succession. Next to a few of the names, he listed specific circumstances. A smile played on his lips like a cruel game of cat’s cradle.

Beside him, his cell phone plinked out a little vibrating tune. A few other students gave him dirty looks as he flipped it open. 

“Hello?” 

“Oh hello,” Ryuzaki said. “Are you busy?”

"I'm at the library," Light said. 

"But are you busy?"

"Listen." Light cupped a hand around his mouth. "Can I just call you back?"

"Mm," Ryuzaki hummed. "Call me back in five minutes."

Then he hung up and left Light listening to nothing. The sting of being hung up on took a moment to hit him and once it did, he snapped his phone shut. Fingers wrapped around the phone, he clenched them as though trying to crumple it in his hand. How dare he hang up on Light. That little pest. He shoved his belongings into his bag, humiliated by his own obedience to Ryuzaki's five minute time limit. Behind him, Ryuk whined abt not being able to take any quizzes. 

"I wanted to do the one about what type of candy I'd be. Can't we stay and take that one?"

"Shut up," Light hissed. His hands fluttered, not quite sure what to do after filling his bag, and then fell to the keyboard. He cleared the browser history before logging out of the computer. Throwing his bag on, he headed out through the narrow aisles of books and out the front doors. There wasn't any snowfall but the results of the previous few days weather still stood up against the library's outside—mounds of muddy white fluff melting slowly in the weak sunlight. Light only waited a moment before his phone went off. 

"Ryuzaki," he said, phone against his ear. "You didn't wait for me to call you."

"No. Is Light busy now?"

"Right now?" His boots had a dull shine and Light shuffled them while he stood against a wall. A bevy of business men rushed past him, all in suits and all carrying briefcases. They reminded him of his father. "I'm free for a little while but I've got work at five."

"Hm," Ryuzaki said. "Would you be able to meet me in twenty minutes? I'd like to speak with you about matters involving the Kira case."

"Oh. Well. I can probably do that." 

"Good. Good." Ryukazi coughed. "I'll text you the directions and see you there. Good-bye."

Light wasn't at all surprised to be hung up on again. He still wanted to hurl his phone into the street and scream into his hands but he wasn't surprised. No sooner had he shut his phone that it buzzed with a text. There was an address and a few directions written in a bizarre sentence structure that Light couldn’t puzzle out. Frustrated, he put his phone in his pocket and headed toward the subway.

Light enjoyed the subway. He liked the time to think, to meditate on what to do next. There were a few kids running around in his car but most of his company was made up of worn looking adults sullenly reading newspapers. His grip on the rail tightened despite the shock of cold metal against his palm. Outside, the grime coated walls of the subway rushed past. He longed to reach out, dig his fingers into the tile and rip it free. He’d rip the entire world apart, eventually, and build a new one in its place. But first to deal with Ryuzaki.

He didn’t like how much the other man occupied his thoughts. The past week he’d thought rarely of anything else, even while writing down names. Their meeting was a faded stain on his mind and, infuriated, Light ran rough fingers over the memory. How bold of him to reveal himself out in the open. If Ryuzaki was L, then he had Light at a supreme disadvantage. Should he turn out to not be L, then he was just as much of a bastard. No matter how Light approached the situation, Ryuzaki’s suspicions about him would increase and, as he thought about that, his toes curled in his boots.

“It sucks that you don’t have one of those phones,” Ryuk said. He pointed to where a teenager stared at her smartphone. “It’s so cool. I bet you could look at Buzzfeed on that.”

Light pressed the volume toggle on his headphones and his music blared. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Everything was good. Everything was perfect. Nothing this Ryuzaki character threw at him would stick. He was God and Ryuzaki? That asshole was only human.

He lurched forward when the subway train hit his stop.  Shoulder to shoulder, he and the other passengers poured out. A busker sat in the middle of the station and plucked out a Tears for Fears song on his guitar. Light made eye contact but avoided him, walking as far away as possible. The busker broke away from his gaze to stare at his open guitar case. There were only three dollars and a handful of quarters thrown inside.

Light hesitated when he got to the stairs. His wallet burned in his back pocket. He swerved back around and headed toward the busker. Taking out five bucks, he tossed it into his case and smiled as sincerely as he could.

“You play so well,” he said. “You should be a professional.”

“You’re not the first to say that.” The busker winked. “But it’s still nice to hear.”

“Mhm.” Light nodded and regretted saying anything. If this guy thought he could take up his time with some stupid lines, then he would just take his money back. But the busker didn’t pursue the conversation so Light left. A shiny feeling fell over him. This was what good people did, wasn’t it? They gave money to people less fortunate than them. And that busker would never know it was a god who blessed him with that money.

 _I’m such a benevolent god,_ Light thought. _These people are so lucky I’m here._

He took the stairs two steps at a time, buoyant from his good deed, and emerged smiling. Outside, wind whipped around the crowded sidewalk. It bit the tips of his ears and left them red. Alongside the rest of New York, Light shoved himself toward his destination—small cafe Ryuzaki chose—and made himself blank. Without blankness, he couldn’t stand the overwhelming thought of so many awful people touching him. Instead, he existed above himself with the whistling sound of his music tied around his waist to keep him from flying away.

The cafe had long windows which, unlike the ones at his Starbucks, were trimmed with gold swirls. A hand-painted sandwich board sign told him the day’s specials. Making note of a latte that sounded interesting, he pushed open the door and bells jingled. Inside, there were rows of booth seating and a couple tables all taken up by people typing. A bookshelf stood against the far wall filled with aging paperbacks. Strange and abstract paintings hung on the walls and all of them bore anti-government rhetoric. Light resisted the urge to lean in close to read the messages better.

 _Ah,_ he thought. _So it’s one of those sort of places._

Light checked his watch. He had work in two hours and the walk from here would take him at least twenty minutes.

“Hey.” Ryuzaki shouted from across the cafe. “Light. Over here.”

Crouched at one of the booths, Ryuzaki had a spread of various cookies and scones stacked on plates. He waved at Light, who reluctantly waved back but motioned to the counter to show he needed to order. At the register, he looked over the prices and his eyes widened at how much the latte he’d seen cost. The barista, pierced and blue haired, stared at him with a gaze that bordered on friendly but never quite made it over. Light pulled out his wallet and handed her his debit card.

“One drip coffee,” he said and rummaged for a dollar which he dropped into the tip jar. “Small, please.”

“For here or to go?" Her expression tilted when she looked at him, as though sizing him up. Flicking his wrist, Light checked his watch.

“To go," he said.

Cup warm in his hand, he slid into the seat opposite Ryuzaki. He squeezed the cup and popped off the lid. As Ryuzaki bit into a large, sugared blueberry scone, Light took two French vanilla creamers out of the condiment caddy and poured them into his coffee. With a little red stirring stick, he blended the creamer in until the coffee took on a lighter color.

“Is that all Light is going to get?” Ryuzaki spoke through a full mouth and Light stifled a grimace. “You should try their cinnamon latte. It’s quite good.”

“I’ll have to get it next time I’m here,” Light said. He took his stirring stick out and stuck it between his lips. “Maybe when they do some sort of slam poetry.”

“Mhm.” Crumbs covered the whole of his face as Ryuzaki picked through a muffin and removed all the raisins. “I didn’t realize Light enjoyed the poetry scene so much.”

“Not really. I go to some of the slams near my university.” Light shrugged. “This just seems like a place that holds them.”

“I’ve found it suits my purposes nicely. I come here every time I visit New York.”

Ah. So he didn’t live here, which shouldn’t have surprised Light. A question bubbled up in his throat but Ryuzaki spoke before he could.

“Don't worry," he said. “There's nothing about my frequent city stops that will give you a clue to my identity beyond what I've already told you."

“I see." Fingers laced together, Light propped up his chin on them. Heat from his coffee brushed against his palms and his brain buzzed. Somehow Ryuzaki knew what Light was thinking. Again, he chided himself for believing otherwise. If he was gutsy enough to reveal himself in public as L then there was no telling what sort of mind lurked behind that flat, glassy stare. “Well. It's not as though you've given me much to go on anyway. How can I even be sure you are who you say you are?"

“Does Light doubt me?"

“Yes." He adjusted his hands and balanced his head in one palm. With the other, he took a sip of his coffee. The cotton-like taste of French vanilla laid over a caffeinated bitterness and for a moment he savored the feeling of good coffee in his mouth. After months of over roasted beans and his big plastic tub of Folgers at home, the care put into this cup was comforting. “Anyway. You must've called me here for a reason?"

“Yes." Reaching into his back pocket, Ryuzaki produced three pictures. He slid them across the table and Light caught them. “What does Light make of these?"

Marred by Ryuzaki’s fingerprints, the pictures were all of letters written in English. The handwriting changed from letter to letter but each one said close to the same message. These images were not letters Light had been involved with. He would’ve known if they were since he sent L a series of messages coded through prisoner’s actions. Those messages were written in blood and all held a taunting message in them. The letters in front of him were on college ruled paper in sloppy pen ink. Their message was all the same—a confession of sexual assault. Light’s skin spiked at the pictures but refused to let it show. His expression remained neutral.

“These were written by three of the victims about an hour before their death.” Ryuzaki’s bored tone didn’t match the sniper in his eyes trained on Light’s every move. Behind a studied coolness, Light watched Ryuzaki with the same scope mounted over his vision. “Each one was a man in his twenties, differing from each other by a year or two, and went to the same college. The college that, I believe, you are attending.”

Light took in what he hoped was an imperceptible breath. Yes. He remembered these deaths—three frat boys found dead over the span of a week. The cause of death hadn’t been made public and Light didn’t care enough to look closer. Kira’s work took precedence over the murders of idiots. But the letters. He hadn’t known about the letters.

“The diction in these.” Light held the pictures fanned out in one hand and shook them. “It’s not—it’s very formal for any twenty year old man to have written it.”

“Light is in his twenties,” Ryuzaki said. “Do you write informally?”

“That’s not the point.” A shrill whistle went off in Light’s head the longer he tried to gather together his thoughts. “Listen to this: ‘Although my actions were impaired by alcohol, they were unjustified. I see now the only recourse is to rid the world of myself.’ Does that match the tone of any frat boy you’ve spoken to?”

“Frat boys?” Ryuzaki used the back of his hand to wipe away crumbs. “So you knew who these men were, then?”

“In the sense that I went to school with them, yes.” Light frowned. The question was a good try but Ryuzaki would have to push harder than that to find out if Light was involved. As he squinted to read the letter, a thought struck him. “Ryuzaki. How did these men die?”

“Light doesn’t know?”

“No. They never said anything in the media and, well, I was too busy with my studies to nose around.” There. That was a solid enough reason for Ryuzaki to chew on. Across from Light, he took another bite out of his war-torn muffin and tapped a finger to his chin.

“Heart attacks.” The words snapped Light’s spine. Mindlessly, he took a sip of his coffee and burnt his tongue. He groaned and rubbed it on the roof of his mouth. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” Light set the photos down and ran a hand over his face. “Heart attacks? Do you think that maybe—“

“Kira?” The name rolled off Ryuzaki’s tongue like a gumball to the floor. “Hm. I’m not sure. That’s why I called you. I needed someone with a similar disposition to Kira to share his thoughts. Not to say that Light is definitively Kira.”

 _Not to say?_ Light snorted in his head. _You might as well have shouted it to the whole café._

“Well.” Light pushed himself back from the table. “I guess if you want to look at it that way you can. We know Kira only kills people who have committed crimes, yes. But he hasn’t ever sent messages like this before, has he?”

If Ryuzaki knew about the messages Light sent, then he could at least prove himself as someone close to L if not L himself. Excitement welled up as he waited for Ryuzaki’s response. Just what would he say? The other man blinked and huffed out a laugh. Light’s skin went still.

“You’re very smart.” Ryuzaki smiled with all his teeth. They were bright white. “There’s been nothing released to the public about any messages of Kira’s, so if I say I know of anything about them you’ll know for sure that I’m L, or that I know him. But if I confess ignorance, then you’ll know that I’ve been lying. How cunning of you, Light. It’s just what I would do.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Light said. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“Does Light consider being compared to me flattery?”

“Don’t act so ignorant.” Embarrassed, Light tucked a hand into his pocket and fingered his small piece of the death note. It lulled the anxiety racket in his stomach. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course.” Ryuzaki ran a finger around the rim of his tea cup without looking at Light. Amusement colored what Light could see of his expression and that sent a deep sense of disgruntlement through him. Kira didn’t play to amuse people. “To answer your question, Kira has actually sent messages to L specifically. They were, hm, childish.”

“How so?” Light shifted in his seat. He hated to be called childish but, remembering the content of his little experiments, the descriptor might’ve been accurate.

“Kira used the words that prisoners wrote to spell out a little secret message,” Ryuzaki said. “Does Light know what it said?”

“How would I know what sort of message Kira sent?” Light shook his head. “I didn’t even know any existed until a moment ago.”

“Mhm. Well. The message was ‘L, did you know that Shinigami love apples?’”

Light shut his eyes and nodded. Behind a wall of calm, his thoughts were marbles all let out at once. They rolled around without direction all screaming that this was L. This was the man out for his head. Slowly, he opened his eyes and took in the man in front of him. Stone faced, L crammed half a cookie into his mouth with chocolate smearing around his mouth. If Light weren’t quite so composed, he would have flipped the table off into infinity. He was competing with a giant child.

“What strange thing to send someone.” Light congratulated himself on the pleasant tone he pulled over his voice. “Shinigami? Death gods? Do you think Kira thinks they exist?”

“I don’t know.” L shrugged. “What does Light think?”

“I think,” Light started and then checked his watch, “that I need to get going to work. I’m sorry, Ryuzaki, but I need to leave.”

“Ah. That’s too bad.” Brushing crumbs off his knees, L looked at Light with disappointment. “I’d hoped to talk to you longer about these letters. When is the next time you’re free?”

“Friday.” The word tumbled out of Light before he could stop it. Why was he even giving the man more of his time? No. He needed to keep an eye on L. Spending more time with him would certainly achieve that and besides, he could use the distraction. At least while their back and forth provided Light some entertainment. “I only have classes until noon and don’t work after that.”

“Will you be able to meet me at two then?” L asked. Light nodded as he got up from the table. “Good. Then it’s a date.”

“Ah.” Light shook his head and his mouth twitched into an almost genuine smile. “So you’re still trying to ask me on a date, huh?”

L frowned and sniffed, tea cup held precariously in one hand as he did.

“I’m not interested in Light in that way,” he said. “Perhaps that’s only you projecting.”

“I’m not projecting.” Mouth dry, Light fought the urge to make fists of his hands. “Whatever. I’m only joking.”

“Light. You’re an intelligent man.” L gave him a sideways glance. “But you’re not funny.”

Heat crackled behind Light’s eyes and he wished he could shoot fire from them. He’d burn down the entire café with L inside and laugh. Instead, he creaked open another smile, more plastic than the last, and adjusted his bag over his shoulder.

“Well. That’s your opinion.”

“My opinions are rarely wrong.” L sipped his tea and hid a smirk behind his cup. “Isn’t Light supposed to be going to work?”

“I—,” Light huffed. “Yes. Okay. Good bye, Ryuzaki.”

“Good bye, Light.” L waved. “Until Friday then.”

Light turned on his heel and left without responding. A dark fog covered his vision as he stamped out into the cold streets of the city. He shoved himself through swaths of people with an aggression he couldn’t stifle. Already in his head, he carved L’s headstone with knife-like thoughts while above him, Ryuk whined.

“I bet that L guy can go on Buzzfeed with his phone,” he said. “I bet he gets to take those quizzes.”

With a hard look, Light silenced Ryuk and kept walking. He crammed his headphones in and turned the volume up on his music. It blurred the world around him until all he saw was his own anger. With careful hands, he held it close and let it burn his fingers.

 _I’ll destroy him,_ Light thought. _And build a new world on his grave._

**Author's Note:**

> woah! u finished this chapter! good job dude. if u liked this, then u might also like my [tumblr](http://translightyagami.tumblr.com/)!!!


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